


Absolutely, Madly, Truly

by darlingjegulus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dirty Jokes, Established Relationship, First Time Blow Jobs, Forehead Kisses, Gentle Kissing, Gentle Sex, Jegulus, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Neck Kissing, Sweet, also im sorry i forgot to include lube i feel like i shouldve idk, an arrogant and cocky sweetheart but a sweetheart nonetheless, and boy does reg need some parental affection, both james and regulus have an ~intense appreciation~ for hands (relatable), euphemia and fleamont love regulus with all their hearts, going "what a lovely boy james is dating", i just imagine euphemia sitting there, its late and ive been writing for like seven hours forgive me, james is a major sweetheart who woulda guessed, so blissfully unaware, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:06:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27466906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingjegulus/pseuds/darlingjegulus
Summary: Allowed a respite from the maladaptive environment found at Grimmauld Place, Regulus Black is invited by his lover,  the ever-enthusiastic James Potter, to visit at his home.
Relationships: Regulus Black & James Potter, Regulus Black/James Potter
Comments: 5
Kudos: 141





	Absolutely, Madly, Truly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [twitter users @nobleregulus + @jegulus](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=twitter+users+%40nobleregulus+%2B+%40jegulus).



Euphemia is the one who gets the door.  
She greets Regulus by reaching out and holding his face, the way a mother would hold her child to comfort them. There’s a smile on her lips, just wide enough to stretch the skin beside the corners of her mouth, pulling forth the wrinkles that accompanied her advanced age. Despite this, there is something still youthful about this woman, something that makes her grey hair seem like a strange mistake. Euphemia looks at Regulus and it seems as though years are stripped away from her age. Her eyes shine with adoration. Only a few times they had met before, and Mrs. Potter had already decided that this boy standing in front of her now was deserving of so much love.

Regulus almost retracts away from her touch as an instinct. The idea of an adult figure wanting to touch him like that, with such comfort and care, was a foreign one. His parents were far from the affectionate type. In fact, it could be assumed that there were no two people in the entirety of England that were less inclined towards showcasing their endearment, their absolute fondness. That was if any sentiment feelings of true authenticity even existed in the first place. 

But he doesn’t. He fights off the urge and instead smiles at her. Regulus has a smile quite different from the one Euphemia Potter has sprawled on her countenance. His is reserved, refusing to show any teeth. Polite in a manufactured nature. He just stands there and allows Mrs. Potter to touch him, silent appreciation given to the warmth she brings to his skin. 

“Come in, dear, James should be any minute now.”  
There was something so soothing about her voice. It wasn’t quiet, not at all, and yet it just exudes so much happiness that one could not help but feel lifted by its tone. Most of the apprehension that had surrounded this visit was washed away by that melodic cadence, an inflection most inviting.

With steps so careful they could be misconstrued as participation in some impermissible activity, Regulus moves inside. It was his first time being at the Potter residence. The interior takes him by quiet surprise. Contrasted with that of his own home, the difference is stark. Walls are covered by a light green colour, almost reminiscent of some beautiful ocean, one with water far from a perfect shade of blue. Decorations fill the room, everything from flowers to small paintings, all sorts of unnecessary trinkets. The furnishings at Grimmauld Place were bleak to a significant degree, though in the most tasteful way possible. Light could mostly be found only from the windows and the lamps. There, every aspect was kept formal. Nothing like this place. In the Potter residence rose a casual atmosphere. It almost makes Regulus uncomfortable. There he was standing in his dark sweater and trousers, fairly form-fitting, an outfit Walburga Black would consider to be far too relaxed for someone as important as Regulus. He felt out of place, the last thing he wanted when visiting James.

“Fleamont left just a while ago to finish buying a few things for the house. He told me to let you know how much he regrets not being able to see you.”

As much as he appreciates the thought that went into creating this disguise, Regulus knows that the reasoning for Mr. Potter’s absence is not so simple as a shopping trip. Fleamont treated him with the same amount of respect that his wife did. The man delighted in the merriment brought whenever the two were in company with one another. It would take something serious to draw Mr. Potter away from another chance to speak with Regulus. An answer is obvious enough to be deduced: Sirius.

Sirius Black was the fourth inhabitant of this house. When he had escaped the clutches of their parents, there was no better place to turn to than James, his best friend in the entire world, the person with whom he trusted his life and all the little complications that came with. Regulus had been abandoned right then and there; he had not spoken to Sirius since. There was no method to accurately predict what would happen in their first reunion after the separation. Bitter accusations, impatient questions, and an overload of conflicting emotions were likely probabilities. Euphemia had been smart enough to realize all this, even if her knowledge wasn’t to the extent that Regulus held. It was best for the two brothers to avoid confrontation.

A simple nod is given. Nothing more needs to be said on that.  
Yet his silence feels unnatural, like he ought to say something to this woman who loves him so dearly, treats him with darling endearment. Turning his gaze to Euphemia, Regulus opens his mouth, only to be interrupted by the sound of hurried footsteps. 

“Mum, is Reg here yet? Feels like I’ve been waiting forever.”

James Potter steps into view and freezes when he spots his beloved.

A grin comes pouring onto his face, unable to be contained, no use trying to contain it. Hazel eyes light up as they wander over the boy and his features. Special attention is given to his cheekbones, how accentuated they are, so pristine and gorgeous, and his eyes, the most stunning eyes in the entire world, grey with a slight tincture of soft blue. How easy it was for him to get lost in those orbs, swimming around as if he owned them as personal property, a real dream. James feels his mouth twitch into a subtle smirk when focus lands on the expression Regulus wears. It had transitioned so quickly. Originating as a simple look, just staring forward, not very readily trying to hide his nerves from detection, his appearance had morphed into one displaying genuine happiness, understated when viewed by any other person, but James . . James was different. He knew just how glad Regulus was to be here with him, and the feeling was entirely mutual.

Regulus had sensed his heartbeat growing even when the only tangible evidence of James being nearby was his voice calling out. Now that his body was visible, the rate at which blood pumped through every artery and every vein seemed to double, overcome by the unconditional thrill that burst through whenever he saw James. All the captivating idiosyncrasies that lived within and among Potter demanded that Regulus relinquish all his focus onto them and them only. That untidy dark hair, a classic to any person who knew James for more than a few seconds, clothes not quite as neat as his mother may have wished them to be, and the goofily charismatic stance he assumed so frequently, so leisurely in essence and mannerism, slouched to the side as if he were the poster child for boyish charm. Black loves them all with a passion, dedicated to showing as much appreciation for all those characteristics as feasible. 

He can’t bear to be apart any longer, striding over, making solid attempts to keep a calm demeanor. The smile he paid Euphemia returns as they collide in an embrace. Regulus slides his hands over James’ waist, thumbs resting just over the bones projecting out from his hip. Simultaneously, James brings his own palms up to caress his cheeks, like mother like son, both the most skilled at revealing their devotion. Mrs. Potter makes a calculated move to exit the room, correctly anticipating the actions to follow.

Lips come together with controlled enthusiasm, with the bulk of the control coming from Regulus and the majority of the enthusiasm stemming from James and his habitually overzealous mouth. It creates an impeccable balance, a kiss that one could dare venture to label as perfect, a source of elation for the both of them. Fingers are pressed deeper into Potter’s skin, desiring closer proximity and getting just that. James allows himself to relent no emotions, giving way for a grand smile to become pressed to Regulus and the beautiful, soft lips attached to that most handsome face.

James is the one who breaks away first. With a playful smirk dancing on his mouth, a hand reaches down, fingers becoming laced together.  
“Follow me, Reg.”

The pair find themselves lounged about in James’ bed, Regulus cuddling close as he relaxes deep into the arms of the other. With his head leaned up against his chest, he can feel the heartbeat, reveling in the observation that Potter has a pulse with a speed almost identical to his own, existing in mutual jubilation, euphoric to be together. Occasional glances are stolen upward, admiring the beautiful creature that holds him. 

“I like your room more than mine back at home.”  
This environment made Black feel safe for once.

“You’re welcome to stay here as long as you’d like. Never have to leave if you don’t want to, darling.”  
James delivers the line in a joking way, though he fails to mask the true intentions behind the words. It was all completely true; if they had it their way, this bed would become their home, the only place they would ever need. 

It is then that Regulus reaches for James, more specifically his hand. Fingers take hold of fingers, individual pads running along the length of each digit before moving along to the next. He repeats this process over and over, never quite satisfied. Potter locks his eyes onto Regulus’ hand, taking note of how long and slender it was. Both boys were quite fond of their hands; they would take any opportunity to utilize them, no matter how small. It could be as innocent as holding hands in hallways, running them through hair and massaging at the scalp, just caressing faces. But in their time together, more inventive manners of deployment were imagined. Hands rested on thighs, squeezing hard. Fingers slipping into the other’s mouth, exploring what was inside as the other sucked on the small appendage. Even better, brushing over the sensitive skin of the neck or reaching down into pants, penniless to resist the urge. James took little things in life seriously, and the hands belonging to his lover were one of them. As he laid there in bed, the arousal he felt was palpable. There was an aspect of the present circumstances that made those feelings seem wrong, sinful almost. After all, this was a house belonging to his parents, one of whom was waiting downstairs, blissfully unaware of anything transpired between her son and the lovely boy he was involved with. 

In a funny way, the risk made the idea even more enticing.

“Baby,” James changes his voice to feign concern and discontent, calmly pleading, “I need your help.”

It works. Black shifts to look at him, to really look at him. He stops playing with Potter’s fingers and instead opts to interlock their hands, squeezing hard. A moan is suppressed from the boy with the messy hair, though it proves difficult.  
“Yeah?”

“I’m not really a fan of these clothes anymore. Can you help me get rid of them?”  
God, is it a pathetic attempt at subtle humor, but it has the intended result. Regulus releases James from his grasp and moves his hand to rest against his collarbone, having to go just underneath the shirt to do so. Kisses are pressed into his neck, gently and in an almost teasing way. Lips are connected for mere moments before they move to the next spot, getting higher and higher until finding a place of reposition just beneath James’ jaw. Eyes are closed and fingers go into the droves of ebony locks, tightening around them, starting to tug at them. Black knows exactly what he’s doing, every move premeditated and executed perfectly. He knows that James is an impatient person, one who loved gaining instant gratification for his actions and his wishes. That had been true his entire life, in every endeavor and any little scheme he imagined. Regulus was keen on positively manipulating that, bringing Potter to his limit before he is forced to call out for release. It was entertaining to see someone like James become the one doing the begging, the one who was always in charge now reduced down to a groveling mess. They both found it endearing, overtly romantic to an almost nauseating fashion. 

“Look at what you do to me, Reg. You drive me mad.”  
James spouts a ridiculous grin, voice properly impeded by the moans lodging his throat. He does his best to keep quiet, though every fibre in his being wishes to be provided the opportunity to fully express his pleasure, no fear of interruption from a nosy parent, an astronomically embarrassing scene to imagine. 

“You know I mean well,” Regulus mutters against his skin, a hint of a smile present, managing to amuse himself.

“A pretty little thing like you, meaning well? Now you’re just lying to me.”

“Never.”  
In one swift motion, the shirt is pulled up and away from James, left completely bare by Regulus and his eagerness to become one with his lover, a truly unified soul. His own shirt follows suit, both ending up forgotten beside the bed, now the most irrelevant pieces of fabric in this world. 

When James can no longer handle being made a fool of, he regains control, hands pushing Regulus back, carefully placing him down onto the bed, naked back grazing against the delicate sheets beneath him. His pants are removed with fervor, an even shorter time dedicated to sliding off the underwear, finally exposing the cock that James so goddamn much, more than anything else in existence. No thoughts existed within his mind besides those of salacious intent, so focused on satisfying not only himself but his lover as well. 

He aims to test Regulus, to see how he adapts to their situation, to see if he is capable enough to restrain the loud moans that were always present during sex. It amazed Potter just how forceful the other boy was when he expressed his pleasure, so quiet in everyday life, awakened by the feeling of his cock going deep inside him. They were beautiful moans, gorgeous sounds, nothing more delightful ever to be heard again until the next time James bedded him, when his beyond beautiful inamorato managed to prove him wrong, time and time again. 

“Now, remember, try and be quiet, love. I know how hard that will be.”  
He pairs that taunt with a wink before fingers curl around Black’s cock, starting to move up and down, pumping in a manner somehow gentle and rough at the same time. All the while, eyes lock together, toying with him, generating more arousal. Not much strain is necessary to help Regulus achieve a stronger erection; the view alone of James stroking him, lust in his eyes, was enough for that. 

As soon as it’s possible, Potter arranges himself to hover over his hips, preparing to take the cock in his mouth, something he had never done before. It was always Regulus that had pleasured James in this way, determined to do so, and my, my, my, had he always done it well. His mouth was relentless, getting deeper than even he thought possible, bringing his lover a great deal of simultaneous shock and happiness. The black-haired beauty looked so pretty as he ran his lips up and down James’ length, savoring every inch as long as he possibly could. A sight for sore eyes.

Potter wanted to bring some variation, a unique display of his own talents. Hands still stimulate his cock, but now they move to cover only the base, leaving plenty of room for his mouth to entertain. Without further ado, James envelopes the tip with his lips, tongue flicking over the sensitive skin, almost daring Regulus to make a sound. He watches as his boyfriend bites at his lip, eyes widening slightly. A hand travels to enter into that unkempt mane of hair, acting as a silent form of encouragement, all but saying the words ‘don’t stop’. 

There is yet to be a threat of an oncoming moan, so James decides that his work is not nearly good enough. With slow sucking motions, his lips descend, taking in more and more of his cock, enjoying every added inch. That is enough to drag a whimper out from Regulus, who tightens around James’ hair, pulling on it harshly.

James seems to partially grin up at him, somehow managing to circumvent the fact that all the muscles in his mouth were dedicated to another cause. His free hand extends out, one finger lifting in the universal sign for quiet. He has no true desire to stifle any moans, those lovely sounds in all their glory. This was all part of a game, a game that James intended to win. He knew with complete assurance that, eventually, temptation and impulse would overtake his lover. That would be the moment he claimed victory. 

Regulus struggles to contain himself. Nothing he had ever experienced prior felt quite like this, save for maybe the sensation of James being within his body, fucking him with power and passion. He gets greedy, craving more, requiring more. The digits entwined around his tresses, securing a strong hold before he began to push down. 

For James, this was a triumph in their first playful battle, but nowhere close to ending the war they were engrossed in. He was winning over Black, drawing him in as though through an enchantment, putting him under some twisted Imperius Curse. 

Once he reaches an adequate depth, the vertical motions begin, head bobbing up and down slowly, taking his sweet time. His tongue is given the freedom to swirl all over, revitalizing all the nerves found inside his cock, awakening all the important senses. Regulus finds himself overwhelmed, breath hitching, back arching, creating some distance between himself and the bedsheets. Whines leave his lips, outright disregarding the instruction James was giving him. Luckily for them, Potter has since stopped caring, just deciding to enjoy the sounds filling the air, eliminating any uncomfortable silence. The hand still left stroking hard at Regulus’ cock constricts, as though a snake delivering the killing blow. Success is near, complete and utter satisfaction. Orgasm, when words aren’t minced. 

Just as James begins his finale, a show-stopping conclusion, Regulus feels that all-familiar pull residing in his abdomen, knowing that his time is close.  
“Please.” All he can manage.

Potter goes in for one (unbeknownst to him) last descent, feeling the tip prod tenderly at the back of his throat when the pinnacle hits. Cum rushes into his mouth, a sweet taste so new to him, yet so damn welcomed. Every last drop is consumed, a feat that James considers admirable, though he opts not to express this out loud, a rarity for the boy. 

When he reclaims control of his breathing, Regulus reaches both hands out for the boy that he was now so proud of, so thankful for, just as he always was. Nobody made him happier to be around. James Potter was a special human being. To have been chosen as the one he wished to hold, Regulus considered that to be a privilege, a concept he had long been accustomed to but had seldom appreciated until now. Keeping such a person in close company was all he could ever desire. The extraordinary blowjob was just a gracious benefit.

He wants even more. James knows this, and it is mutual. 

Raising himself to a standing position, trousers are slid off. For a brief moment, grab hold of the waistband of his underwear, readying himself to become fully naked and rejoin Regulus, to make love to him just as he had done countless times before. He gets an idea. Those gorgeous hands he fantasizes about have not, in his most humble opinion, been used nearly enough. A solution is presented in the form of that last article of clothing serving as a barricade between the two, the object that prevented true intimacy. 

“I can’t seem to get these off, that’s odd.”

And James remains where he is, giving his body up as bait, the shape of his bulging erection acting as the convincing hook, sure to lure in his prey. Regulus takes the bite. Full of longing and hunger, his arms come lunging out, gripping his hips and dragging him in closer. Grey eyes glance up to meet with hazel, with the former angled in a way that exaggerates their owner's lowered position. In an approach so slow it could be interpreted as borderline pain-inducing, the underwear is pulled down, his cock brought forth, seducing Regulus even further.  
“You’re so beautiful.” 

Temptation gains dominion over his inhibitions. Slender fingers find their resting point near the top of his length, thumb sweeping over the tip with pressure. The other slides backward to fall over James’ posterior, using the secure hold to reel the boy in closer. Gentle kisses are placed all over his cock, with most of them focused on the end. His mind is screaming to him to take it into his mouth and give him an even impressive orgasm than the one he just experienced himself. James has other plans.

“Ease up, baby. There’s better places for my cock to be right now.”  
The words instill so much pining within Regulus that when he smiles, he allows his teeth to show, an occurrence so rare it was thought nonviable. James reads it as a summons.

Collapsing softly onto him, Potter takes a moment to appreciate the body he is about to savor, the body he will soon become a part of by extension. He traces up his lover’s sides, hardly touching, just enough to feel the goosebumps forming all over pale skin. Fingers drift over his chest, going to caress his neck, paying specialized attention to the vein that juts out the slightest amount, a constant fascination of James. Once he is content with the examinations made on Regulus and his perfect figure, he looks right into his face, noticing every little detail there that he can’t get enough of, how his eyes reflect light so wonderfully, how the center of his eyebrows raise toward his forehead when he sees something that excites him, and what aspect of life would excite him more than being with James?

He cannot help but praise him.  
“I’m so in love with you.”

James grins, tilting his head to the side. He leans closer to press a series of kisses to Regulus’ forehead, all with a tiny space of time between, extending the duration of this particular closeness as much as possible.  
“I’m absolutely, madly, truly in love with you.”

They kiss, even softer than they had when Black had arrived, each second more treasured than the last. James caresses his cheek, a finger circling around and around, unable to stay still, simply wanting to take flight in a brilliant dance, with Regulus as the ballroom floor, providing a platform for his excitement to be expressed. Minutes before, he had been teasing this boy, egging him on with playful arrogance, but now ... 

Now he only wanted to make him happy. The happiest he could ever feel.  
He breaks the kiss.  
“Ready?”

Regulus feels supremely protected, shielded away from all the horror that existed elsewhere in the world, because when James held him like this, spoke to him so tenderly, it made him nearly forget. How could it even be fathomable that the world could be so cruel when someone as perfect as his beloved was living in it?

He nods.

James exhales one last time and gifts one more peck to his lips before shifting to get into position. No harsh movements are made; he takes his cock between his fingers and aligns it directly with Regulus’ entrance. Another glance is taken, just getting reassurance. Hurting this boy, more than he had already been, was his idea of a nightmare, a sole notion for him to fear. He sees the answer so clear in his eyes. This is what he wants.

He slides in slowly, immediately moving his arms to wrap around his lover’s torso, holding him in an intimate embrace, one fortified with protective resolutions. His face is buried into the comfortable shelter found in Regulus’ neck, not shying away from pressing kisses in the skin there, gingerly. Black, on the other hand, leans his head back, exposing more of himself to James, permitting him to explore more than what he occupies himself with now. One hand returns to playing with his hair, working by an alternating pattern, shifting between running fingers all the way through and remaining there to massage his skull in wide revolutions, trying to cover as much ground as he can manage.

As he moves back and forth, James maintains their pace, deciding to keep things slow, easy even. It is different from the tempo they are accustomed to, but for some altruistic reason, it feels more right, like this is what was meant to be. No longer is he motivated by the arousal brought on by the mere sight of his hands, thoughts of what those fingers could do to this body. Now, he imagines only Regulus, with a wide smile on his face, unafraid to expose his teeth, just like the grin brought on minutes earlier, the one he treasured as few and far between. That is what he imagined. Happiness for his love. Regulus is here in his home only because he was given a rare window of opportunity, an escape from any pressure, if only just for a day or two. James was that escape. This room was a place of protection, of incredible safety. It was an almost sacred place now, a location that Regulus knew he could rely on to feel loved, to feel held, a conceptualization that did not exist elsewhere. They had fallen in love at Hogwarts, but within those castle walls were enemies and people who could never be trusted, people who may want to hurt him or the one he adored with all his heart. His home was even more true to all those words, nobody to trust but himself. James’ room was otherworldly in the way it made Regulus feel. Everything confined to this space was teeming with a desire to help him and to make him feel like he was deserving of such warmth, such devoted inclination. So, he felt no current drive to request any more than what James was bestowing upon him. He had James. That was what he needed. Not necessarily anything more. 

The first whimpers of pleasure start to become real, leaving Regulus with no restraint, and James is powerless to stop him. He stops caring about where they are and the moral dilemmas and questions that he could be asking himself. And why should he? He was James Potter after all. That meant something. He took risks and did crazy, reckless things for the people he loves. How was this any different? He wants the world to know just how much he loved this boy, because, in his eyes, the world deserves to see how wonderful they are, how beautiful Regulus is when he’s happy, how amazing of a sight it is to witness, and most of all, how that sight could be seen so much more often if the world wasn’t hellbent on fucking him over. 

“It’s okay, Reg,” James remembers the polite command he had administered earlier regarding his volume and decides to rescind it, telling him, “You don’t have to stay quiet anymore. Fuck anyone who tries to shut you up.”

Regulus doesn’t have the energy to respond with words; all his vivacity is directed toward the fulfillment he gains from the feeling of James inside him, his cock dedicated to the mission of delivering him divine ecstasy. Instead, he groans. Hands halt their repetitive motion, choosing to stay lodged in his beloved’s hair, insistent on making it even messier than it had been before they started. That goal is supported by ruffling the locks with an unexpected intensity, using the procedure as an outlet for the titillation building within him.  
“Please . . don’t stop.”

No music played by the greatest instrumentalists could compare to the beauty heard when Regulus begged like that. James always craved the privilege and Merlin, did he enjoy listening, latching hold of every word and replaying it over and over. He responds by increasing his pace, ever so slightly, feeling as though his lover had more than earned it, so deserving of whatever he wanted, whatever he desired. 

Regulus delights in the change. Legs maneuver around to pull James in closer. One hand slides out of his hair and onto the nape of his neck, rubbing at the skin urgently, just needing to feel as much of his skin as feasible.

The two lovers advance together in harmony, James rocking back and forth, careful thrusts into his boyfriend, arms remaining firm around his torso, Regulus following his movements, staying synchronised, right down to how fast their hearts were beating. Both of them are moaning now, gentle sounds, filled with light passion.

Soon after comes that feeling, the pull from his gut, a feeling experienced by Regulus just a short while ago. James prepares himself, allowing a few more thrusts before he retracts his cock, holding it steady as the orgasm hits. Cum drips onto his lover, creating an unintended mess, one that would have to be cleaned up before it was time for dinner.  
“Fuck.” 

Black props himself and grabs at the bedside table, taking hold of his wand. With one swift gesture, the thick substance is vanished, leaving the messy hair and unmistakable scent of sex that lingered in the air as the only reminders that any lewd activities had transpired. His breathing steadies, trying its best to return to a normal state, adjusting to what would be expected for the rest of the evening, an appropriate rhythm. 

James looks to the boy and grins.  
“How are you feeling?”  
It is both a genuine question and a method for bragging about his achievements. Regulus is well-aware of this, finding it anything but bothersome, more or less endearing. A question deserving an honest answer, though not much deception is imperative. 

“Better than I’ve ever felt before.”

“You flatter me too much, darling. My capabilities can go much higher than that.”

“I know.”  
An uncharacteristic smirk appears on his face. James brought out a sense of humor, an air of frivolity about him that no one else could manage to induce. 

The desire to kiss Regulus again becomes too blatant for Potter to ignore any longer. He smiles and moves closer, hands yet again reaching to hold his face, fingertips just touching the start of his hairline. Lips are about to touch when ...

“James!”  
Euphemia calls up for her son. The tone in her voice was neutral, refusing to show whether her intentions for the signal were good or bad. Both boys freeze in horror. Frantic inquiries pour in. Did she know? Had she heard? How much had she heard? 

James has no choice but to dress as quickly as possible and hope that his mother didn’t notice any of the other .. characteristics. Not wanting to be left hanging with no resolution, he gives Regulus a peck on the lips before catapulting up and hurrying to collect his clothes from the floor. Once he had done so, he took to yanking them on as violently as possible, causing himself to stumble so much he almost face-planted. It would be amusing to see the effortlessly cool James Potter act so flustered in any other circumstance. This one prevented that merriment from taking place. 

He rushes out of the room, leaving Regulus to ponder the possibilities. He wondered if Euphemia would see him differently, stop loving him as much, maybe even start keeping her distance, blaming him for the corruption of her son into some sex-driven animal. It was ridiculous and yet he thought about it regardless. To lose the woman he saw as a maternal figure after longing to have one for so long .. it would be a devastating blow. And then she would tell Fleamont and then he might think of him differently too, leaving Regulus with two fewer people who trusted him and a significant surplus of pain, something he certainly needed no more of. This was all mad, but couldn’t it be true? For Merlin’s sake, they lived in a world where wooden sticks could produce birds out of them, was it such a shocking idea for two people to dislike another human being? Absolutely not, not at all, not in the-

“Reg?”  
Black was so consumed by his fear that he failed to notice James had already returned.

“Mum’s made us tea.”  
No human had ever let out a greater sigh of relief in history.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! if interested - my twitter is @96SDICAPRIO. i am constantly tweeting about my writing and my fics!


End file.
